About happiness we always just remember.
But happiness is everywhere. It is maybe
This autumn garden behind the barn
And clean air, pouring in the window.
With a light white edge in the bottomless sky
A cloud is rising, glowing. For a long time
I’m watching it... We see a little, aware of
And happiness is only given to those who know.
The window is open. Squeaked and sat down
A bird on the windowsill. And from the books
I, for a moment, take a weary look.
The day is dying, the sky got empty.
The hum of the thresher is heard on the threshing floor...
I see, I hear, I’m happy. In me is all.
Перевод стихотворения И.А.Бунина "Вечер", 14.08.1909
17.03.2018
Evening
© Copyright: Авьяяя, 2018
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Свидетельство о публикации №118031709060
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